lose your mind n.s. (discontinued)

five

It was early. He didn't know exactly what time it was, but he didn't care. Losing track of time, he kept awake through out the night. He was so close to finishing his master piece.

He'd gone through all the different genres of art and he had decided to try his hand at cubism.

Cubism was strange. It depicted an object at many different angles.

H was painting the next clue for his two favorite pawns.

He knew that the two were smart, of course they were. But he also knew that the little hint that he gave them wouldn't be enough. They'll need a little push. So, that's why he's painting this. Well more like a detour.

It's a perverted picture of a car.

At first glance, it looked something like a mixed pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces.

Perfect.

He cleaned up the paint and set his canvas out to dry.

He made his way to the bedroom where he held his special guests. Works of art deserved the very best.

It was a Saturday, mid-morning. The rain was drizzling outside, making a soft pitter-patter against the windows throughout the house.

He walked into the bedroom, startling the girl from her light slumber.

Sleeping whilst being held captive isn't exactly a likely possibility, considering the abundant danger looming above one's head.

"Rise and shine, darling." He said softly.

Her eyes were wide with fear, which was the usual expression that adorned her face when he was around.

He didn't mind it too much, actually he found it comforting that he could bring about such an emotion.

Emotion was key. Art is meant to bring about certain emotions. His favorite emotion was fear. Fear and love.

He wasn't quite sure what it was about love that made him enjoy bringing it out in his art.

Maybe because that's the only real time he could ever experience it. Love wasn't an emotion which he knew directly. His family never loved him the way families ought to love their children/siblings. They hated his art. He hated them.

He pulled her out of the bed and down the hall, into the kitchen. After sitting her at the breakfast table, he bound her wrists together.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. How did you sleep, lovely?"

She grimaced at the pet name and kept her gaze at her plate.

"M'not hungry." She mumbles.

He gave her a disapproving look before sliding a small blade out of his pocket. He held it to her neck.

"That was not an answer to the question I asked. If I hear any smart ass remarks coming from your pretty lips, then you'll be leaving here with more marks on your body than I originally intended. Now, how did you sleep, Lovely?" He added pressure to the knife.

She was shaking in fear. "F-fine, I slept fine."

"Thank you. Now eat." He let go of her head and slid the knife back into his pocket, then left the room.

She managed to get a few bites in before giving up, the task being too painful to complete. The bounds on her wrists were rubbing against her fresh cuts, from a few days earlier.

This sucked.

The weekend passed slowly, Niall at home watching Netflix and Harry at home doing whatever it is Harry does.